"You know, I don't like this attitude of, I had a bad race, but it's a learning experience. I think that's a very convenient excuse to a lot of people."
Alistair Brownlee
2012 and 2016 Olympic Triathlon Champion
Tuesday, September 6, 2016
Sunday, September 4, 2016
Otter Run 2016
I was running out of time.
3km... and it looked like the gap was 40 seconds.
5km... still 40 seconds?
7km... maybe 35 seconds?
Ah, but you see, the duration of the gap depends on how fast I was running.
I had registered for this race uncertain if I was to be representing NTU for SUniG the subsequent Saturday. It was a little heartbreaking to miss the Early Bird rate (I was just a day late!) of $24, but even the normal rate was priced very modestly. No hesitations to run this small race and support the CSC, perhaps even snatch a podium finish.
The plan was to eye the competition, stratify my standard and importantly, practice racing. By then, I had known next Saturday would be a major race, hence this race had to be taken gently. My ideal race would constitute starting with the leaders (if and only if they didn't go out too quick), sit and sit and kick towards the end. Kicking wasn't exactly my strength, unless it was a slow race (Strava data of one of my favourite finishes when I slowed down in the middle portions of a race to spur on the female leader till the last 300).
As I arrived at the race venue early (just in time to see the HM runners get flagged off), I looked around and saw two very realistic podium finishers. One was Kien Mau - I certainly am not capable to be contending with such a standard right now. The other was Prasant, a sub-40 10k runner that I've seen running before donning the F1 colours. Interestingly, as with most F1 runners - they start off really quickly. However, I felt that if I could keep him in my sights, I quite definitely would catch him. Yet all these thoughts were hypothetical. The race would soon begin.
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| Couldn't wait to be racing again. Credit to Otter Run's Facebook page. |
Just a few minutes before the flag-off however, a tall (really tall) Caucasian wearing green strode over. Now that seemed to be adding some competition here. We were then flagged off promptly at 7.00am.
I knew I wasn't going to stick with the leaders once they started. One barefoot runner went off to a flying start, probably leading for the first 200m before Kien Mau overtook him. I made a mental note that there were 9 other runners ahead of me - I was aiming for a top-3 finish (realistically 3rd, as Green seemed to have found his way into second).
The initial portions of the route were undulating and winding as it took us through Sengkang Riverside Park. I went easy on the uphills and kept relaxed on the downhills. The gap was growing between the top few and myself, but I had absolutely certainty I would catch up with some. However, the question was, how many exactly.
As we approached the bridge along Sengkang East Way, a runner ahead started brushing his hair very violently. What was happening? I heard it, the buzz. Flies? Felt it on my neck and I (very gently) dusted it. Thankfully it didn't return. The runner ahead however, was still in evident discomfort and agitation. Seems like he even caught up with two others ahead of him in the process.
I played the game of catch-up. Within the span of the first three km, I had overtaken 6 of the 9 runners ahead. This left me in 4th place. Just one more to go. However, the gap between me and Prasant was huge. I had some time though. I thought so.
The miles passed and hmm... the gap didn't seem to be decreasing. I had two choices. Bearing in mind that this race was just a week before SUniG, I wasn't prepared to run it too hard (anyway that wasn't going to be easy when I was isolated for about 70% of the race). Therefore, it was a choice between catching up or maintaining my pace (a decent pace, not redlining). I needed some serious motivation if I was to attempt the catch-up - cos 35-40 seconds of a gap wasn't encouraging. At all. I recall making a wish that the race was 15k instead of just 10. I was absolutely certain I would catch him if my wishful thinking came true.
It was towards the the 8km mark, with my existing awareness that this course was going to be short (making catching up even tougher), that I found myself clawing towards Prasant. Noticeably. The gap had shrunk to 30...25...20. It was actually within reach. I knew I wouldn't have to hurt too much if I sped up for this last 1-2km and therefore I found my second wind.
The 20 second gap appeared to be obliterated in... two minutes (ironically)? I knew the race was in my hands as Prasant beckoned me past when I appeared alongside. I played a little additional surge to confirm my dominance. Then I settled (as this race wasn't about the time - it was about a race), preparing to respond if I had to (though I highly doubted it).
It was barely a few hundred metres before the end was in sight. Had I left my surge any bit later, I may have had to contend with a more motivated challenger. It was a pretty big gap now, despite passing only a few hundred metres ago. I negotiated the abrupt left turn and steps and passed the finish. In second.
Where did Green go? Kien Mau and Green were dominant from the start. I knew I couldn't have passed Green. Prasant finished in third, ascertaining that I didn't mishear the claim of the volunteers. I suspected that Green had run off course. That was definitely a realistic possibility and I certainly paid careful attention not to be a victim of misdirection.
I was blessed. It was a pity for Green, who would certainly have come in second (Prasant informed me he saw him a few hundred metres ahead with quite a few km to go). The satisfaction of a well-timed surge that threw me ahead of Prasant was also immense, particularly after realising that the 9th km was covered in 3:41 (Garmin). Coach's intervals seemed to be working for me.
I praised, acknowledging that just a few months ago, I was handicapped with injury. God knows when I would next succumb, but I'm treasuring this opportunity He gave me to participate and enjoy the freedom and exhilaration of running. Not just running, but I'd consider it racing.
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| Lonely. Credit to Otter Run's Facebook page. |
The miles passed and hmm... the gap didn't seem to be decreasing. I had two choices. Bearing in mind that this race was just a week before SUniG, I wasn't prepared to run it too hard (anyway that wasn't going to be easy when I was isolated for about 70% of the race). Therefore, it was a choice between catching up or maintaining my pace (a decent pace, not redlining). I needed some serious motivation if I was to attempt the catch-up - cos 35-40 seconds of a gap wasn't encouraging. At all. I recall making a wish that the race was 15k instead of just 10. I was absolutely certain I would catch him if my wishful thinking came true.
It was towards the the 8km mark, with my existing awareness that this course was going to be short (making catching up even tougher), that I found myself clawing towards Prasant. Noticeably. The gap had shrunk to 30...25...20. It was actually within reach. I knew I wouldn't have to hurt too much if I sped up for this last 1-2km and therefore I found my second wind.
The 20 second gap appeared to be obliterated in... two minutes (ironically)? I knew the race was in my hands as Prasant beckoned me past when I appeared alongside. I played a little additional surge to confirm my dominance. Then I settled (as this race wasn't about the time - it was about a race), preparing to respond if I had to (though I highly doubted it).
It was barely a few hundred metres before the end was in sight. Had I left my surge any bit later, I may have had to contend with a more motivated challenger. It was a pretty big gap now, despite passing only a few hundred metres ago. I negotiated the abrupt left turn and steps and passed the finish. In second.
Where did Green go? Kien Mau and Green were dominant from the start. I knew I couldn't have passed Green. Prasant finished in third, ascertaining that I didn't mishear the claim of the volunteers. I suspected that Green had run off course. That was definitely a realistic possibility and I certainly paid careful attention not to be a victim of misdirection.
I was blessed. It was a pity for Green, who would certainly have come in second (Prasant informed me he saw him a few hundred metres ahead with quite a few km to go). The satisfaction of a well-timed surge that threw me ahead of Prasant was also immense, particularly after realising that the 9th km was covered in 3:41 (Garmin). Coach's intervals seemed to be working for me.
I praised, acknowledging that just a few months ago, I was handicapped with injury. God knows when I would next succumb, but I'm treasuring this opportunity He gave me to participate and enjoy the freedom and exhilaration of running. Not just running, but I'd consider it racing.
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| Nearing the finish. Credit to Running Shots. |
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| A sudden left turn to the finish. Credit to Otter Run's Facebook page. |
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| Blessed to bless. |
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| Results available three days after. |
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| Strava data available here :) |
Two weeks after the race I received this in my mail! A simple gesture (an engraved medal and a laminated certificate - albeit a misprinted position of '1st Runner') but the attempt is encouraging. Thank you organisers :)
Saturday, August 20, 2016
A Second Chance
This sharing is an honest and vulnerable testimony of God's goodness and how He so amazingly reminded me of His sovereignty.
It was with much apprehension that I toed the line. I had not been feeling well for the previous six days and even at that very moment I was not feeling sharp. Yet I knew it was my last chance to try to qualify for SUniG, having foregone the earlier trial two days ago due to even greater illness. This was a second chance.
It was with much apprehension that I toed the line. I had not been feeling well for the previous six days and even at that very moment I was not feeling sharp. Yet I knew it was my last chance to try to qualify for SUniG, having foregone the earlier trial two days ago due to even greater illness. This was a second chance.
Looking at the rankings, I knew I had to beat one other on the list if I wanted the chance to run for SUniG, barring of course, unfortunate circumstances that may require one of the starting six to pull out.
The structure of SUniG was of a cross-country race. Six runners would start, with the top four counting for points based on position. The first position would get 1 point, second 2 and so on. The institution with the lowest number of points would place first and so on. There were two reserves, who wouldn't run but would be prepared to do so if the need arose (ie one of the six was unable to).
The rankings were tight. I expected I'd put in a 23-24min performance, bearing in mind my ill but recovering health. One runner had run a sub-21 (in fact, he'd ever run a sub-2.50 full marathon), another ran a sub-22. There were 3 that ran 22ish so far. I wasn't thinking about that as a possibility. The timing I was certain I could beat was the sixth ranked runner's timing of about 23:29, but there was a catch.
That 23:29 runner was running the trial again. And I knew he was most certainly capable of a sub-23 performance if he paced it well. That runner was Yuan Yi.
As I looked at the field of just above 12 of us, I didn't detect anyone likely to run in the range I intended, apart from Yuan Yi of course. He did mention he was planning a sub-23, while I genuinely felt a 23-flat performance would be a brilliant run that day. I could only hope for favourable circumstances for me that could take me past him somehow. That probably would manifest in the form of perfect pacing by me and less than perfect pacing by Yuan Yi.
"Line up against the curved line," announced coach as he prepared to flag us off. He informed us he would tell us the 2 and 4k splits, while also taking note of how many laps we had run. Yuan Yi took the inside of lane 1 while I lined up just lateral. We were off.
22 seconds at the 100m, that was good. Yuan Yi was a few metres ahead, that was good. His lead seemed to grow for the back straight, yet stabilised thereafter. He seemed a perfect pacer if this continued. But if this continued, I didn't see how I could be one of the six runners either.
The first lap was passed in 1:32 on my Garmin, perfect according to my plan to run a 23-flat race. I was feeling comfortable. Gradually over the next 2-3 laps, I closed the gap. I wanted to follow, but I also desired to knock off reasonable efforts every lap. This resulted in me taking the lead.
For the next many laps, we ran together. I was mostly in the lead, which wasn't favourable because Yuan Yi was extremely close. No significant signs of fatigue. I sensed the shadow (the floodlights were switched on) lurking too near for comfort. I knew he was breathing more rapidly than I was - though I do breathe rather slowly, even when at my limits of exertion. With each lap that he stuck to me (and in retrospect, we were running a mild negative split), my earlier glimmer of hope was fading even if my pace wasn't. I knew that Yuan Yi ran the 1500. Meanwhile, my strength was in pacing.
With every passing my lap, my concern grew. The kick. I needed to drop him soon or else I knew I would be dropped. Easily. I was not at all sharp from the week-long illness that had plagued me and was still bugging me.
Lap 12. Still with me. Lap 13. Still with me. Lap 14. Still!
And we hit the "bell". He quickly went into the lead and every ounce of hope seemed to fade. I tried to muster a response, but the body simply could not perform in its sub-optimal state. I don't recall breathing very hard, nor hurting very much. Sure, I could feel a slight burn in my legs, nothing unexpected in a race of this distance. Yet, more than anything, I was flat.
The heart sank as the gap grew. I wanted to give my best, to feel the burning pain in my legs, to rapidly ventilate. Sadly, my body seemed unable to muster any further effort. I had done so much work in leading the majority of the race. I knew it was a race that I had planned well in my head, yet the crucial part - running the legs out of him - was unsuccessful. Yet I still did whatever I could, though the lead became insurmountable. I did what I had prayed for. To give my best in the state I was in that day. And down the straight, I stopped my watch in 22:47. At the very least, it was a PB, with the average pace better than any race I had ever ran over even 5km. It converted to a marginal sub-19 5km race.
I congratulated Yuan Yi. I was really proud at his performance. He ran a blistering 77 last lap to finish in 22:38, getting the better of even Lester's timing. No doubt I was disappointed at my inability to outpace him. However, the spirit of a distance race manifests in the knowledge of shared perseverance, with everyone having to expend their physical reserves to the point of vulnerability. He ran the first trial on Tuesday in a poorly-paced effort of 23:29. I missed the chance. This trial on Thursday was the last opportunity, my second chance. I laid out the best I could offer under my circumstances and it seemed to just fall short of my intent. I gave praise. That very morning, 18 August, as I read Our Daily Bread, the article was on prayer. It described King Abijah, a king whose heart wasn't fully devoted to God. Yet in his need, he cried out and his kingdom was delivered. It seemed absolutely relatable. I had been struggling with my faith. Yet the passage was reassurance that in my desperation, the Lord would hear. Our Heavenly Father is loving and surely He had placed my passion in running for a reason. Perhaps, though not necessarily, it would manifest in successful ways by human standards as well, given my discipline in my pursuit.
For the next many laps, we ran together. I was mostly in the lead, which wasn't favourable because Yuan Yi was extremely close. No significant signs of fatigue. I sensed the shadow (the floodlights were switched on) lurking too near for comfort. I knew he was breathing more rapidly than I was - though I do breathe rather slowly, even when at my limits of exertion. With each lap that he stuck to me (and in retrospect, we were running a mild negative split), my earlier glimmer of hope was fading even if my pace wasn't. I knew that Yuan Yi ran the 1500. Meanwhile, my strength was in pacing.
With every passing my lap, my concern grew. The kick. I needed to drop him soon or else I knew I would be dropped. Easily. I was not at all sharp from the week-long illness that had plagued me and was still bugging me.
Lap 12. Still with me. Lap 13. Still with me. Lap 14. Still!
And we hit the "bell". He quickly went into the lead and every ounce of hope seemed to fade. I tried to muster a response, but the body simply could not perform in its sub-optimal state. I don't recall breathing very hard, nor hurting very much. Sure, I could feel a slight burn in my legs, nothing unexpected in a race of this distance. Yet, more than anything, I was flat.
The heart sank as the gap grew. I wanted to give my best, to feel the burning pain in my legs, to rapidly ventilate. Sadly, my body seemed unable to muster any further effort. I had done so much work in leading the majority of the race. I knew it was a race that I had planned well in my head, yet the crucial part - running the legs out of him - was unsuccessful. Yet I still did whatever I could, though the lead became insurmountable. I did what I had prayed for. To give my best in the state I was in that day. And down the straight, I stopped my watch in 22:47. At the very least, it was a PB, with the average pace better than any race I had ever ran over even 5km. It converted to a marginal sub-19 5km race.
I congratulated Yuan Yi. I was really proud at his performance. He ran a blistering 77 last lap to finish in 22:38, getting the better of even Lester's timing. No doubt I was disappointed at my inability to outpace him. However, the spirit of a distance race manifests in the knowledge of shared perseverance, with everyone having to expend their physical reserves to the point of vulnerability. He ran the first trial on Tuesday in a poorly-paced effort of 23:29. I missed the chance. This trial on Thursday was the last opportunity, my second chance. I laid out the best I could offer under my circumstances and it seemed to just fall short of my intent. I gave praise. That very morning, 18 August, as I read Our Daily Bread, the article was on prayer. It described King Abijah, a king whose heart wasn't fully devoted to God. Yet in his need, he cried out and his kingdom was delivered. It seemed absolutely relatable. I had been struggling with my faith. Yet the passage was reassurance that in my desperation, the Lord would hear. Our Heavenly Father is loving and surely He had placed my passion in running for a reason. Perhaps, though not necessarily, it would manifest in successful ways by human standards as well, given my discipline in my pursuit.
I cheered the others on as they continued their trials. It was natural to do so. It was natural in sport to do so. We set our goals, we do our part, we acknowledge the outcome and we spur others on in their own goals, in their own journeys to their finishes.
22:47. That was fast this given day. Was that actually enough? One of the freshies had run a 22-odd trial. I never expected beating that time, previously predicting I would run 23-flat. It was worth a check.
The hunch was real. 22:48 was Zuo Hong's time. One second. That was all. It was indeed a second chance.
I lived in apprehension for the next few days. I knew I was in the team that comprised of eight. The question was, did I place well enough to be one of the six running, or would I serve as a reserve. Trials were still ongoing and anything could happen.
Chun Hong informed me that weekend that I was indeed one of the six. Quite a number were aware of my potential chance of making the first six and it was a joy informing them of my success. I praised God, acknowledging the opportunity He had given me to execute the time trial. And despite the disappointment of finishing behind Yuan Yi, I had finished, based on timing, a single second ahead of Zuo Hong. I would dearly treasure this chance, a second chance.
This hurdle was over. I had made the first six and would don the NTU colours with much gratitude. The next hurdle is getting to race day healthy and prepared. We shall see.
The hunch was real. 22:48 was Zuo Hong's time. One second. That was all. It was indeed a second chance.
I lived in apprehension for the next few days. I knew I was in the team that comprised of eight. The question was, did I place well enough to be one of the six running, or would I serve as a reserve. Trials were still ongoing and anything could happen.
Chun Hong informed me that weekend that I was indeed one of the six. Quite a number were aware of my potential chance of making the first six and it was a joy informing them of my success. I praised God, acknowledging the opportunity He had given me to execute the time trial. And despite the disappointment of finishing behind Yuan Yi, I had finished, based on timing, a single second ahead of Zuo Hong. I would dearly treasure this chance, a second chance.
This hurdle was over. I had made the first six and would don the NTU colours with much gratitude. The next hurdle is getting to race day healthy and prepared. We shall see.
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| Strava data available here. |
Tuesday, August 16, 2016
Rio
It's more than just winning medals.
Rio 2016
Farah's 10,000m
Rudisha's 800m
And now I await the 5,000m. Would it be Farah's?
In addition, some of the best sprints I've seen, when there's immense expectation.
Bolt's
100m
200m
4x100m
What makes Jamaica's men's 4x1 relay team so great? Or perhaps it's their resistance to faltering, unlike so many others. More specifically, USA. It is the ninth time since 1995 that the U.S. men have been disqualified or failed to get the baton around at an Olympics or world championships (Associated Press). You have to feel for them.
- continued on 21 August '16 -
And Farah takes the gold. The double double is complete.
“The critical bit of information that you need to know is that when Mo stands on the start line, he believes he can run faster than anyone else in that race. He believes he can run the last 400m faster than anyone in that race. He believes he could run the last kilometre faster than anyone in that race. He believes he could lift any weight in the gym that anyone wanted to – as a comparison with anyone on the start line – better, faster and heavier. He believes that if he had to fight anyone there he could kick the sh*t out of them. That’s what owning the start line is.”
Neil Black
I cannot however, leave out Centrowitz's 1500. With his humble disposition, he stayed out of trouble and it paid off. Willis, certainly not one of the fastest but undoubtedly wise, deserves credit as well. It's simply unfortunate that Kiprop didn't make the best use of his abilities.
And of course, we conclude with the marathon - Kipchoge's dominance. Yet great performances by the few handfuls that followed. I'd mention Rupp in particularly, considering that this was just his second marathon ever.
And of course, we conclude with the marathon - Kipchoge's dominance. Yet great performances by the few handfuls that followed. I'd mention Rupp in particularly, considering that this was just his second marathon ever.
Sunday, August 7, 2016
MR-25 5km Time Trial (August)
It's 100km and counting for the week. I'm treading carefully in the slightly damp trail amidst the multitude of other runners.
I'm glad for their company. I know the typical runners too well. They'll start fast and fade. Of course, most are still pretty young. We're talking about secondary school. The leaders, all more experienced runners, are probably way ahead now and I'm willing to bet that most have gauged their efforts well.
The morning's 17km run left me pretty fatigued. Just a conservative effort with a few short pick ups focusing on stride frequency. I hope my legs carry me through. I was feeling really flat earlier as I walked over to Macritchie.
I'm catching up with runners all over. Many females at first, which doesn't surprise me. Then come the guys, little by little. However, I'm feeling a little tired and I'm getting a bit concerned about the sustainability of my pace.
I take the left turn on the trail that leads towards Lornie Road, which is just distal to our U-turn point. I see the leaders returning now. It's a little narrow as I speedily manoeuvre the gentle ascent over the rocky surface.
The U-turn feels draining. It's a jogging pace for a moment but I know I must keep up. At least there's the gentle descent now, though I'm ever cautious about the slightly technical terrain. Thereafter is the right turn and another 2-odd kilometres back to the finish.
I know this territory by heart. It's been a route I've frequented for ages as I take casual runs or perform my workouts in the forest. There are 3 main slopes. The first would be gentle. The second is the longer one and the third is the steeper one. Along with them come descents (thankfully).
I am tired. And I'm breathing rather rapidly and audibly (which hasn't quite featured in the past month).
We runners are all strung out now. I don't have many more within catching distance. Notably I passed a Caucasian. Or was it two. I fear that one will catch up again, as he seemed to be running pretty consistently. I see a Malay runner ahead. Though he seems a little too far to reach.
Garmin beeps. It's nearing now. I know. It's nearing. Negotiate the joggers. The other couple too. Thankful. For the runner ahead. Him passing them. Serves as a warning. Breathing hard. Can't speed up. Low 18s.
Daylight. Reservoir on left. Trail over. Right turn. Stony path. Tiles. Speed. Up.
Acceptable finish. "What number?" "Don't have."
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| It's a stacked field. I'm happy to have company, so much so that it swallows me up in this photo. |
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| The leaders from start to finish. |
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| I begin around the middle of the pack (of 70ish). |
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| Returning. |
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| Umm a little nearer. |
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| Nice shoes. |
Photo credits: Chan Chai Hui
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| Strava data available here :) |
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| Look at the loaded field! Google them (correct the typos first)! |
Wednesday, August 3, 2016
The Hall Way
“I want you to know…” says Madeline, faltering. “I want you to know that this family prays, and prays for many things. That it will be a good race, that it will be a safe race, but they never…they never…” She stops now, holding her hand to her mouth as her eyes fill with tears. It takes her a moment to gather before she can speak again.
“They never pray to win.”
Read the full article here.
Monday, August 1, 2016
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